


The Fifty-Six Days of Christmas

by maiden_aunt (SCFrankles)



Category: Dear Ladies
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Humor, Mild Innuendo, Puns & Word Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:31:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCFrankles/pseuds/maiden_aunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evadne decides they should start preparing early for Christmas this year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hinge and Bracket were created by Patrick Fyffe and George Logan. _Dear Ladies_ was written by Fyffe and Logan, and Gyles Brandreth, and produced by the BBC. In my story, there are also characters and references from the BBC radio series _The Random Jottings of Hinge and Bracket_ by Gerald Frow.

“Christmas!” declared Evadne, coming out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Hallowe’en, surely,” said Hilda from her armchair, automatically glancing at the calendar.

“No,” said Evadne, with a hint of exasperation. “I mean perhaps we should start planning for Christmas. It popped into my head as I was making my preparations for tonight.”

Hilda put down her needlework and looked at Evadne. _“How_ have you been preparing for tonight? Polishing your broomstick?”

Evadne gave her companion a very hard stare. “I have been wrestling with a swede in the kitchen.”

“I see…” said Hilda.

Evadne sighed. 

“I’ve been making a traditional turnip lantern, Hilda.”

“Oh!” said Hilda. “To ward off evil spirits.”

“In a manner of speaking,” said Evadne. “I was thinking mainly of Stackton’s teenagers.”

She came and sat down on the settee. “You know how they’ve begun copying that awful American custom—‘tricking and treating’ or whatever it’s called. We don’t want a repeat of last year.” She shuddered slightly.

“I don’t know why you just didn’t offer them some of your homemade cakes as the ‘treat’,” said Hilda.

“I did,” said Evadne, looking puzzled. “It was after that they threw eggs at the front door.”

“Yes, beetroot fancies are an acquired taste I suppose,” said Hilda, examining her embroidery.

She looked back up at her friend. “But is a turnip lantern really enough to keep the local youths away?”

“Oh, I think so,” said Evadne. “Well, that and I’m going to padlock the gates.”

“Very sensible, dear,” said Hilda, going back to her embroidery.

“Anyway,” said Evadne. _“Christmas_. It occurred to me that we always leave everything to the last minute, and every year it’s a dreadful rush. This year I think we should start early—plan properly.”

“What do you have in mind, dear?” asked Hilda.

“Well, there’s the pantomime,” said Evadne.

“But we’ve been rehearsing that for the past two weeks,” said Hilda, glancing up.

“I know,” said Evadne. “But I want to increase the numbers of rehearsals. Once a week isn’t enough. And I am going to insist on more commitment and discipline. The cast turn up only when they feel like it. The only people who take the blessed thing seriously are the audience. I don’t think we got a single laugh last year.”

“Yes, I do see your point,” said Hilda. She put her needlework aside and gave Evadne her full attention. “What else were you thinking about?”

“We need some new ornaments for the tree,” said Evadne.

Hilda frowned. “What’s wrong with the ones we’ve already got?” she asked.

“Nothing at all,” said Evadne. “They’re absolutely fine—the ones we’ve got _left_. But if you recall, you allowed Maud to decorate the tree last Christmas and our collection was decimated.”

“Ah, yes,” said Hilda, “that was a shame.” She giggled slightly. “But at least Maud had a _smashing_ time!”

Evadne looked at Hilda blankly.

_“Smashing,_ you see,” said Hilda brightly. She watched her hands smoothing down her skirt. “It doesn’t matter…”

Evadne decided to press on. “So, I think we should start there. Ahlers on Saturday!”

 

 

The following Saturday was the sixth of November.

Evadne looked around the department store. “I can’t see any Christmas decorations,” she said, worriedly. “I suspect we might be too early for them.”

“You were the one who wanted to start preparing for Christmas now,” said Hilda.

“Yes, I know,” said Evadne, “but it’s probably all still treacle toffee and fireworks.”

A young man with a baby face and dark curls spotted them and came over.

“Can I help you ladies?” he asked.

“My friend was just saying she was expecting fireworks,” said Hilda.

“Oh, I think she’s left it a little late for that,” said the assistant.

Hilda nodded sadly, mouthing discreetly ‘yes.’

“I’m afraid we’ve sold out, madam,” said the assistant, addressing Evadne.

“No,” said Evadne smiling. “No, we’re actually here for Christmas decorations.”

“You’ve left it a little late there too,” he said.

“Really?” asked Evadne, her face falling.

“Oh, yes,” said the young man, “nowadays you really need to be thinking about Christmas in October.”

“Perhaps we should just celebrate it in August and get it over and done with,” muttered Hilda.

“But I can show you what stock we have left, if you tell me what you’re looking for,” said the assistant, indicating a corner of the shop floor.

“Splendid,” said Evadne. “Well, ideally I’m looking for something long and dangly.”

The young man thought about that.

“A bauble for the tree,” explained Evadne.

“Of course, madam,” said the assistant in some relief. He went over to the decorations, selected an ornament and brought it back to the ladies.

“What about this?” he asked, showing them a slim, silvery bauble.

“Oh, that’s lovely!” said Hilda.

“It’s rather like the one Joan Shanks had last year,” said Evadne. “Do you remember?”

“Oh, yes,” said Hilda. “Luminous. Beautiful effect.” She turned to the young man.

“Does yours light up in the dark?”

There was a pause.

“I’m afraid not,” said the assistant eventually. He considered a little.

“Fairies,” he declared.

“I _beg_ your pardon,” said Hilda, affronted.

A worried look passed over the face of the assistant as once more the conversation seemed to get away from him.

“Do you need a fairy for the top of your tree..?” he asked.

“Oh!” said Hilda. She glanced at Evadne. “Well, maybe. Our angel is a little tarnished.”

“She will keep falling,” said Evadne regretfully.

“Do you know,” said Hilda, “I think I’d like a star as a change.”

Evadne gave a wry smile. “Well, that’s easy,” she said. “We can just use the one you keep for putting on your dressing-room doors.”

Hilda glared at her companion.

“Perhaps I’ll just let you browse,” said the assistant and quickly made his escape. Maybe he’d have his tea break a little early today, he thought.

 

 

At home they went through their purchases: eight new baubles, a rather depressed looking robin and a glitter-covered star for the top of the tree.

“Well, that could have gone better,” said Hilda, settling herself down in her armchair. “Perhaps we should just cancel this Christmas, and have another go next year.”

“We mustn’t be downhearted,” said Evadne, tidying everything back into the bag. “Look at it this way—if we’d waited any longer, we wouldn’t have got anything at all. No, onwards and upwards! A cup of tea and then let’s get over to the hall for the rehearsal.”

 

 

On their way into the church hall they bumped into the vicar.

“Hello, Donald!” said Hilda. “We’re just on our way to rehearsals.”

“Ah, yes,” said the vicar vaguely. “Remind me, which pantomime are you doing this year?”

_“Beauty and the Beast,”_ said Evadne.

“Of course,” said the vicar. “And are you two ladies taking the leading roles?”

Evadne gave him a very hard stare but Hilda giggled. 

“Oh, no,” she said, “unfortunately I am a little too mature to play Beauty. Just by a few years.”

“A few decades more like,” muttered Evadne.

“And the Doctor has taken on the roles of writer and director,” said Hilda.

“How wonderful,” said the vicar. “Well, I must let you get on.”

He meandered away.

“I swear Donald is getting more and more absentminded,” said Evadne.

“Oh, don’t be _beastly,”_ giggled Hilda.

Evadne gave her a very severe look and they entered the hall.

 

 

Inside, they found their amateur company had already begun assembling: the fishmonger and Mrs Thorneycroft from the Post Office, who were playing the King and Queen, Miss Martins the primary school teacher, who was the witch, and Karen and Philip, the teenagers playing Beauty and the Beast/Prince. The adults all looked as though they wished they were elsewhere, while Philip looked rather shy. Karen though was practically bouncing with enthusiasm.

“So, to recap,” said Evadne, standing in front of her seated cast and consulting her notes. “The wicked witch—angry with being snubbed by the King and Queen—curses the Prince, who leaves the palace and finds refuge in a magical house and garden, created for him by the beautiful good fairy…”

“Played by me!” Hilda interjected cheerfully.

“Played by Dame Hilda,” confirmed Evadne. “Then Beauty’s father goes on his travels in order to trade his wares, and he promises to bring back presents: his oldest daughters want jewels, Beauty wants only a rose. As we know, Beauty ends up being given to the Beast as the price for the rose.”

“The good fairy accompanies her to watch over her,” said Hilda.

“Yes, thank you, Hilda,” said Evadne in some irritation. “Beauty falls in love with the Beast, the spell is broken and everyone returns to the palace, where there are great jubilations.”

She put down her notes. “So,” said Evadne, “I had thought we’d begin by rehearsing the scene when Beauty’s father is about to depart. He’s saying goodbye to his wife, and asking his daughters what gifts they desire. That’s Teddy, Peggy, Karen, Suzanne and Tracy.”

Evadne glanced over at the front door. “Have Suzanne and Tracy still not arrived?”

Karen’s hand shot up. “They said they don’t want to come any more. They’ve doing gymnastics with the Venture Scouts instead.”

“Oh,” said Evadne. She rallied. “Well, no matter. We can work round them. Beauty can be an only child—I’ll do the rewriting before our next rehearsal.” 

She looked at Hilda. “Any word from Teddy and Peggy?”

As if on cue, the phone in the office started ringing.

Evadne sighed. “Just answer that would you, Hilda and then we can get on.”

Hilda went into the office and picked up the phone. “Stackton church hall! How may I help you?”

There was a slight pause.

“Oh, hello Teddy!”

Hilda covered the receiver and called out of the open office door to her colleague: “It’s Teddy, Evadne!”

“Well, ask him why he’s not here,” said Evadne.

“Yes, of course.” Hilda took her hand away from the receiver and spoke into it. “We’re at the rehearsal, dear. We rather thought you and Peggy might have been here too.”

She listened. “Oh, I see.” Hilda’s brow furrowed. “The young man didn’t know what he was doing and Peggy went too far.”

Evadne raised her eyebrows.

“And then Peggy was picked up by three sailors.” Hilda sounded bemused. 

Evadne _felt_ bemused.

“Oh, I _see_. Peggy was picked up out of the water by three sailors,” said Hilda. “Oh, how dreadful. Yes, of course you must stay with her. I’ll let Evadne know. Yes. Bye, dear.”

She put the phone down and went to rejoin the others. 

“They can’t come this evening,” Hilda told Evadne. “Peggy has had an accident while bungee jumping and Teddy feels he ought to stay with her.”

“Bungee the wrong length?” asked Evadne.

“Forgot to attach it,” said Hilda sadly.

Evadne sighed. “Poor Peggy. Well, I suppose we’ll have to scrap working on the scene with Beauty’s family. Instead we’ll do the reunion scene at the end: the Prince, restored to his old self, brings Beauty home to meet his royal parents.”

She turned over the pages of her script.

“We’ll start from: ‘I thought I was going to be all hairy forever, but now I’m myself again. What a close shave that was.’”

Hilda rolled her eyes.

 

 

“There’s just one last thing,” said Evadne, when the rehearsals were finally over and everyone was preparing to leave. “I am going to increase our rehearsals to twice a week—Wednesday evenings, as well as Saturday evenings. Naturally I won’t need everyone at every rehearsal, but if you are timetabled to attend, I will expect you to be there.”

There was a certain amount of muttering amongst the cast, only Karen appearing truly enthusiastic about the extra commitment. Hilda gave Evadne a worried look but her colleague didn’t appear to have noticed.

“So I’ll see you all Wednesday!” said Evadne. 

There were dark expressions on the adult members of her cast. 

 

 

“Are you sure it wouldn’t be better just to cancel the pantomime,” said Hilda, once they were home again and hanging up their coats. “We could do a little musical evening instead…”

“Nonsense, Hilda,” said Evadne taking off her hat and patting her hair back into place. “So, a couple of people have dropped out—the important characters are still there. It’ll all be splendid. The extra rehearsals will see to that.”

Hilda looked uncertain. “I suppose so.”

“I feel quite invigorated,” said Evadne. “I’ve really got the bit between my teeth now and I’m going to start work on the next part of my plan. The food!”

 

 

So on Monday, bright and early, Hilda entered the butcher’s. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Dame Hilda,” said Mr Ptolman, Jr cheerfully. “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” said Hilda. “I was wondering if you’re taking orders for Christmas yet.”

“Of course!” said Mr Ptolman, reaching for his order book. He looked back up at Dame Hilda. 

“You’re ordering a little earlier than usual, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” said Hilda. “We’re trying to organise Christmas a bit more efficiently this year.” She bent her head to one side, smiling a little coyly. “It is a good idea. Don’t want to have a scraggy old bird for Christmas.” 

“The Doctor not with you?” said Mr Ptolman.

Hilda’s mouth fell open.

Mr Ptolman looked a little uncertain. “Only you normally order the bird together…” he said.

“Oh, I see what you mean,” giggled Hilda. “No, no, she’s at home stirring things up.”

Mr Ptolman gave her a bewildered look and then pulled himself together and got on with taking the order for Utopia Ltd.

 

 

Evadne was still in the kitchen making the Christmas pudding when Hilda got home.

“Everything go all right?” asked Evadne as Hilda came into the room.

“It went wonderfully,” declared Hilda. “You were absolutely right. Because we ordered early, Mr Ptolman has promised to give us a goose!”

“You see!” said Evadne. She stirred the pudding mixture vigorously.

“How’s it going?” asked Hilda, coming over to the table and staring into the bowl.

“It’s going to be marvellous,” declared Evadne. “One of my best.”

“What’s in it?” asked Hilda.

“The usual,” said Evadne. “Mixed fruit, assorted nuts, candied peel, and a pinch of dried bladderwrack for interest.”

“Sounds delicious…” said Hilda.

“And I haven’t only been making the pudding,” said Evadne. “I’ve made a full list of all foodstuffs that we’re going to need, cross-referenced with when we need to buy them.” 

“My, you have been busy,” said Hilda, sitting down at the table.

Evadne spooned the mixture into a bowl, covered the top in greaseproof paper and silver foil, carried it over to the Aga and carefully placed the pudding into a pan of water to steam.

“And now—Mother!” said Evadne coming back to the kitchen table and sitting down with Hilda.

“Oh, don’t,” said Hilda. “Looking after your mother is about eighty per cent of the hard work over Christmas.”

“Yes,” said Evadne. “Which is why I’ve come up with a good excuse as to why she can’t come and stay.”

“Oh, yes..?” said Hilda.

“I’m going to be seriously ill!” said Evadne.

Hilda stared at her. “That’s sounds cheerful.” 

“I will just be pretending _obviously,”_ said Evadne. “Not anything life-threatening—just something vaguely chronic, while will last from now until the festive season is over.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Hilda, shifting awkwardly.

“Think about it, Hilda,” said Evadne. “Mother only comes here for Christmas because she knows we’re going to wait on her hand and foot. If she thinks we won’t be able to look after her—if she thinks she may, God forbid, have to look after _me_ —we won’t see her for dust.”

“Well, it would be nice to have a Christmas where we could spoil ourselves, I have to admit,” said Hilda. “But I’m really not happy about lying to your mother.”

Evadne looked a bit uncomfortable herself. “For the plan to work, I’m afraid you’re going to have to. You’ll have to answer the phone from now until Christmas Day in case it’s Mother ringing.”

_“Every_ time?” asked Hilda. “But when your mother calls from Acapulco, she always reverses the charges. If you get a reverse charge call from Mexico, you can just put the phone down.”

“If I put the phone _down,_ Mother will know something’s _up,”_ said Evadne. “No, if I’m alone in the house I won’t answer the phone at all. In all other cases, you’ll have to do it.”

“Well, all right,” said Hilda hesitantly. “But on your head be it.”

 

 

“Come along, Hilda!” called Evadne, as she put her coat on in the hallway. “We need to make an early start if we’re going to get to town before the shops are busy. I want to get as many presents as possible today.”

Hilda came hurrying down the stairs. “Yes, all right. I think I’ve got my outfit right now.”

Evadne gave her a withering look. “You’re going to be wearing a thick coat over it. What does it matter?”

Hilda staggered a little. She recovered, and straightened her back. 

“My dear Evadne…” she began.

The phone began to ring.

“Well, never mind,” said Hilda. “You see who that is, and I’ll go and start the car.”

_“I_ can’t answer the phone,” said Evadne.

Hilda gave her a bemused look.

“Mother, remember?” said Evadne.

Hilda sighed wearily. “Oh, all right.”

She strode to the phone in irritation and picked up the receiver with a flourish. “Stackton 295!” 

There was a pause. Hilda turned to Evadne, who was still in the hallway. “Reverse call from Acapulco,” she whispered. 

Evadne hurried into the living room, an anxious expression on her face. 

Hilda concentrated intently on the receiver. 

“Oh, hello, Maureen!” she said abruptly. “Yes, yes—it’s Hilda. No, I’m afraid she can’t come to the phone at the moment.” Another slight pause and Hilda gave Evadne a significant look. “Apparently she’s not too well.” 

Evadne cast her eyes downwards and went to sit on the settee.

“We think it might drag on a bit,” said Hilda. She grimaced slightly. “It looks like we’re going to have to cancel Christmas—we won’t be able to have you to stay unfortunately.”

She changed the receiver to her other ear.

“What’s that? Oh, yes—Evadne’s tucked up in bed. She was looking a bit flushed so I gave her something to suck on.”

Evadne turned round and raised her eyebrows at Hilda. 

Hilda put her hand over the receiver. “Cough drops,” she whispered.

“I don’t have a _cold,”_ Evadne whispered back.

Hilda uncovered the receiver again and used the hand to give a ‘shush’ gesture.

“Sorry, Maureen?” she said. Hilda turned in anguish to Evadne. “You want to risk it and come anyway.”

Evadne shook her head vigorously and made an expansive gesture, suggesting she was handing something out. Hilda looked at her questioningly. With great irritation, Evadne repeated the gesture. Hilda covered the receiver.

“I’m _infectious,”_ said Evadne.

“Oh, I see,” laughed Hilda. She uncovered the receiver. “That wouldn’t be wise I’m afraid. Evadne is highly infectious.” There was a pause while she listened to the reply on the other end.

“What? Me?” she said. “No, I’ve had it.” She considered the buttons on the phone. “Many times in fact.” There was another pause.

“Yes?” said Hilda. “Oh, I see. Right then. Bye. Bye, Maureen.” She replaced the receiver.

“So?” asked Evadne. “Have we got away with it?”

“She’s phoning again in a few days to see if you’re any better,” said Hilda. “She hasn’t given up the idea of coming for Christmas yet.”

“Drat!” said Evadne.

Hilda came and joined her friend on the settee. “Don’t you think we should just give in? Phone her back and tell her you’ve made a miraculous recovery. It all seems a little cruel.”

“No, Hilda,” said Evadne. “My mind is made up. It’s time for me to be the selfish one. I’m tired of running about after Mother every Christmas while she criticises every single aspect of our celebrations. Each time Mother rings I shall be even more ill, and I won’t be making a miraculous recovery until Christmas Day!”

 

 

They didn’t talk in the car. Hilda was pursing her lips in a way that Evadne knew meant she was irritated.

“Are you going to be annoyed with me all day?” said Evadne, once the car was safely parked and they were walking towards the city centre.

“I’m not annoyed,” said Hilda staring resolutely straight ahead. Evadne raised her eyebrows.

Hilda caught the look. “I just don’t like being dragged into your family dramas,” she said.

“It’s just a couple of phone calls at most,” said Evadne. She stopped walking and Hilda stopped too.

“And do you really want my mother to come for Christmas?” said Evadne. “Doing everything for her while she complains it’s not good enough?”

“No, I suppose not,” said Hilda. They started walking again.

“Anyway,” said Evadne, “you’re a fine one to talk about ‘family dramas’. What about three years ago when we went to stay at your nephew Julian’s place for Christmas? He promised us we wouldn’t have to lift a finger. Then gastric flu cuts a swathe through the staff and we end up cooking Christmas dinner for twenty-five sailors!”

“I do wish you would stop bringing that up,” snapped Hilda. “Well, I suppose you’ll be glad to hear Julian has sold his establishment, so he definitely won’t be needing us _this_ Christmas.” 

“Oh?” said Evadne.

“Yes,” said Hilda. “He’s going cruising instead.”

“Lovely…” said Evadne.

They headed for the department stores, and plunged into the Christmas shopping.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The preparations continue.
> 
> * * *

The dear ladies were hard at work at the kitchen table. Several presents had been wrapped but there was still a substantial pile to go.

“Evadne…” said Hilda, adjusting a bow, “have you bought _my_ present yet?”

Evadne paused from struggling with the sticky tape and looked up. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t. Why?”

Hilda started cutting a piece of shiny red paper to size. “Well, the new Monica Masters has just come out and…”

“Oh, not more of that sentimental, romantic twaddle,” said Evadne. “If you want a book, why not something that will stretch you—something that will make you think.”

Hilda picked up a box of scented soaps. “It was just a suggestion,” she said. She placed the soaps on the wrapping paper and folded one edge over them. “Anyway, what do you want for Christmas?”

“Something practical!” declared Evadne. She indicated the delicate soaps. “We shouldn’t waste money on fripperies.”

“Not everybody likes carbolic,” said Hilda with dignity. “Anyway, Christmas presents should be about giving people little luxuries.”

“Well, I want something practical,” said Evadne. “And that’s final.”

“Oh, do let’s not fight about it,” said Hilda.

“Fine,” said Evadne. Having finally found the end of the tape, she cut a piece, stuck a tag onto the present in front of her, and moved it to be with the other wrapped gifts.

“I’ve been thinking about the door-to-door carol singing and the carol service,” she said. 

“Those don’t take much organising,” said Hilda. She folded the ends of the paper over the box of soaps. “Few rehearsals and we’re away.”

“Yes,” said Evadne, “but when it comes to the performances themselves, we always spend a day getting ready for the carol singing, and then another day getting ready for the carol service. We could easily do both in one evening—it’d be far more efficient.”

“I’m not sure efficiency is what people are looking for in carols,” said Hilda. “And what about… ‘refreshments’.”

Evadne looked at her, puzzled.

“You know,” said Hilda. “After we’ve sung the carols, we’re invited into people’s homes and given cake and mince pies.” She looked at Evadne significantly. “And _sherry_. If we’re going to be doing the carol service straight after…”

Evadne scoffed. “I really don’t think one or two sherries are going to impede our performance.” 

Hilda looked away, raising her eyebrows. “Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am,” said Evadne. “I shall speak to Donald and arrange a day.”

 

 

They began the carol singing at six o’clock, the carol service having been arranged for half seven.

“A perfect evening,” said Evadne, as she put on her coat. “Not too cold, and lovely and clear.”

“Absolutely,” said Hilda. She snapped her handbag shut. “You know, I’m feeling quite positive about this after all. I think it’s going to go splendidly.”

“Of course it will, Hilda,” said Evadne. She smirked. “You really shouldn’t worry so much.”

 

 

They joined up with Mr Ptolman, Senior and Mr Ptolman, Junior, and the small group started their tour of the centre of Stackton. Everyone was in fine voice—outside each home they sang one or two carols and each time the owners came out with a smile and a small donation for the Church Fund. The carol singers didn’t get invited in though until they reached Mr Butler’s, their final call.

“Delightful, delightful! Do come in, all of you,” he said, ushering them into the living room.

He indicated a generously laden table. “Please help yourself!” Making appreciative noises, the Ptolmans began selecting items for their plates.

Mr Butler turned to the ladies. “What you will you have to drink? There’s sherry, or various fruit juices if you prefer.”

“A cranberry juice for me,” said Hilda.

“Sherry, please!” beamed Evadne. 

“Evadne…” whispered Hilda. 

“It would be impolite to refuse,” Evadne whispered back. “It’s just one. I will be perfectly all right.”

 

 

“Just one,” said Hilda, once they were outside again and the Ptolmans had left for the church. “Just _one_ you said.”

“Oh, do be quiet, Hilda,” said Evadne. “I am a grown woman. I do know self-control. And I only had two sherries.”

Hilda looked at her.

“Well, maybe three.”

Hilda raised her eyebrows.

“Or four,” said Evadne.

Hilda looked away.

“Do I seem tiddly in the slightest to you?” demanded Evadne.

“No…” said Hilda, still not looking at her companion.

“Well, then,” said Evadne. “Let’s stop this silly argument and get on to the church. We don’t want to be late for the carol service.”

 

 

They were about to separate inside the church when Hilda placed a hand on Evadne’s arm.

“Are you _sure_ you’re all right?” she said. 

“Hilda, _please,”_ said Evadne and went to take up her position at the organ. Hilda shook her head but went and took her place in front of the organ with the choir.

The vicar entered the church from the vestry, and the choir and congregation stood.

Evadne launched into the first carol.

There, she thought, absolutely no reason for Hilda to make such a fuss. Her feet and fingers were in perfect coordination. She was playing as smoothly and competently as ever. Though… there was _something_. Evadne couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Something to do with the choir? They weren’t up to their usual high standard perhaps. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Evadne saw Hilda approaching her again.

“What is it?” whispered Evadne in irritation, trying to concentrate on her fingering. “There is nothing wrong with my playing.”

“No,” whispered back Hilda. “But we’re all singing _I Saw Three Ships_ and you’re playing _The Fleet’s in Port Again.”_

“Oh,” said Evadne. 

She stopped abruptly. Twisting round, she gave the vicar an embarrassed and apologetic smile. Donald gave her a look that suggested a man desperately trying to think Christian thoughts and failing.

Evadne turned back to the organ and began the introduction to _I Saw Three Ships._

Hilda made her way back to her seat and mentally crossed her fingers for the rest of the service.

 

 

“Your mother rang first thing,” announced Hilda the next morning, when Evadne finally made it downstairs for breakfast. “At least I didn’t have to lie this time—you were definitely in bed feeling ill.” She carried the porridge pan to the sink.

“What did she say?” asked Evadne cautiously.

“She said that as you’re still under the weather she’s decided to go to Canada for Christmas instead,” said Hilda.

“Poor Canada,” said Evadne, sitting down at the kitchen table.

“So, well done,” said Hilda. “You’ve got your own way.” 

She threw the pan into the sink, and Evadne winced.

“My head, Hilda,” she said.

“It’s your own fault,” said Hilda. “All that sherry. And the way you embarrassed me at the service. Donald will never trust us again.”

“Do please stop going on,” said Evadne putting her head in her hands. “It’s all over and done with now.”

“Well, are you going to be up to the pantomime rehearsal this evening?” asked Hilda.

“Oh, Lord,” said Evadne, looking up. “I’d forgotten all about that. I, I, I think I might not be well enough to go. You’ll have to take charge.”

“Oh, no,” said Hilda. “You’re the one who came up with this relentless timetable. You are coming, my girl!”

She slammed a bowl of congealing porridge down in front of Evadne, and swept from the room.

Evadne looked at the porridge and pulled a face.

 

 

The director winced only slightly as she got up at the hall to address her cast at the beginning of the rehearsal. Evadne had taken two aspirins before leaving the house and her headache did appear to be easing a little.

“So we’ll start from the beginning,” she said. “The King and Queen are preparing for the feast.” 

Her attention was caught by Hilda who was opening an envelope.

“What have you got there, Hilda?” she asked.

Hilda looked up. “Someone’s left a note for us.” She whipped out her reading glasses, popped them on and read the letter.

“It’s from Teddy,” she said. “Apparently Peggy will definitely not be recovered in time for the performance on Christmas Eve. He says he still hopes to take part himself though. It all depends on whether Peggy needs him to roll her over in bed.”

“I see,” said Evadne. She looked rather downcast. “Well, it’s a shame. But I think we can manage without a mother. I’ll do some more rewriting. Beauty will just have to be an only child with a widowed father.”

She considered. “You know, with all this rewriting I feel perhaps we ought to increase the number of rehearsals. Yes—as well as Wednesdays and Saturdays, we’ll do Mondays too.”

Evadne smiled round at the remaining cast. “Is that all right with everyone?”

The fishmonger opened his mouth.

“Good!” continued Evadne.” Now let’s get on with the opening scene.”

The King, Queen and witch got up to get onto the stage. Evadne didn’t see the mutinous looks that were developing. 

 

 

The remaining days passed in a flurry of activity: writing cards, wrapping the remaining presents, buying the food and drink. 

And the extra rehearsals began to throw up extra rewrites, as technical problems came to light. Mainly the fact that Karen and Dame Hilda were the only ones with any acting ability. 

Evadne found herself having to be very firm with her cast.

 

 

But finally they made it through to Christmas Eve. Hilda popped out to buy the last few foodstuffs and other celebratory items before the pantomime performance that evening. 

When she got back, Hilda found Evadne standing on a stool putting the finishing touches to decorating the tree. She went and put the food away in the kitchen, and then came back into the living room with the final bag.

“Your crackers,” said Hilda.

“What?” asked Evadne, turning to her bemused.

Hilda fished the box out of the bag. “I got the deluxe ones you wanted—the ones with the motto _and_ the plastic novelty.”

“Thank you, Hilda,” said Evadne, returning her attention to the tree.

Hilda placed the bag on the piano and studied the tree. “You’ve finally got round to it then?” she said. “You know for all your planning, we’ve done the decorating later than ever this year.”

Evadne frowned at her. “I forgot to allow for how much time the extra rehearsals would take up.” She looked back at the tree. “But no matter—it’s done now. In plenty of time for Christmas Day.”

She got down from the stool. “Just turn the light off, would you, Hilda. So I can test the fairy-lights.”

Hilda went and flicked the switch, and Evadne bent down to the wall to turn on the tree-lights. 

Nothing happened.

“Oh,” said Evadne.

Hilda turned the light back on.

“Don’t be alarmed,” said Evadne. “I’m sure I can fix it. I think I noticed a loose bulb earlier.”

“Can you jiggle it a bit?” asked Hilda.

Evadne looked at her.

“The bulb, dear,” said Hilda.

“Yes, I suppose that might help,” said Evadne. She stared at the fairy-lights and started working through the bulbs, tightening each one.

“Well, if you don’t need me,” said Hilda. “I shall go and have a little nap before the performance tonight.”

“All right, Hilda,” said Evadne, concentrating intently on her work as her friend disappeared upstairs.

“Right,” she said, after she had gone through the whole string. “Let’s try again.” She went and turned off the living room light, made her way back to the tree, and switched on the fairy-lights. 

There was a fizzing, a flickering—and then the fairy-lights sprang into brilliant life. A sparkling display of red, yellow, blue and green.

“Perfect,” said Evadne.

From upstairs there came a small cry.

“Are you all right?” Evadne called. “Come down and see the tree lit up.”

“I would,” called back Hilda. “But unfortunately you appear to have fused all the upstairs lights!”

 

 

They eventually made it to the hall just in time to get ready.

“Thank heavens we were able to find an electrician on Christmas Eve,” said Evadne.

“Only because we paid double,” said Hilda.

Evadne sighed. “I really just want Christmas to be over now. I thought I was coping but that really was the last straw. It’s all been more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Now don’t say that,” said Hilda. “You’ve worked very hard. We’ll get through the performance tonight, and then we’ll have a lovely relaxing day tomorrow. Nothing else can go wrong now.”

Karen approached them hesitantly. “Doctor, there’s something I have to tell you…”

 

 

“I can’t believe it,” muttered Evadne to Hilda, as they waited in the wings with Philip. _“Four_ of them dropping out. I can understand Teddy but the rest of them? How could they do this to me?! And to abandon us for Joan Shanks’ bingo evening.”

“You mustn’t get upset,” whispered Hilda. “Karen and Philip have stuck by us.” She gave Philip a little smile. He grinned shyly back. “We can manage all of the other parts.”

“Five parts between the two of us,” said Evadne. “It’ll never work!”

“We’ve been in stickier situations than this before,” said Hilda. She nodded to the hall’s caretaker and he began opening the curtains. “The show must go on…”

 

 

The curtains parted and the three of them made their entrance, moving to centre stage.

Hilda and Evadne turned to each other.

“The preparations are almost done. Are you sure the witch won’t be coming?” asked Queen Hilda.

“Absolutely,” said King Evadne. “Nobody has breathed a hint of this party to her.”

“It seems a bit ungrateful,” said Queen Hilda. “She can be quite useful at times.”

“Well, I’ve told you before: I don’t want Mother—er, the _witch_ here.”

Hilda gave Evadne a significant look and Evadne glared at her.

“I think I hear someone knocking at the palace door,” said Hilda. “Perhaps you’d better go and see who it is.”

Evadne looked puzzled for a moment.

“While you’re gone, you can get _changed,”_ said Hilda.

“Oh! Yes of course,” said Evadne. 

She exited. 

There was a pause.

“Lovely weather,” said Hilda to the Prince. 

“Yes,” he said. Silence fell again.

After a few more awkward moments, Evadne reappeared dressed as the witch. She strode over to the royal pair.

“How lovely to see you!” Hilda declaimed.

“Don’t lie!” said Witch Evadne. “You didn’t invite me! And for that I will take my revenge!”

She whisked her cape up over the head of the Prince. Philip managed to pull the Beast mask out of his jacket and put it on.

Evadne dropped her cape again and the Beast was revealed.

“Oh, no!” cried Hilda. “What have you done?!”

“He will remain in that state until someone falls in love with him. And as no-one could ever love him in that form, he will be like that for ever!” Evadne cackled a bit, and then exited.

There was another pause.

“Well, this is unfortunate,” said Hilda.

“Yes,” agreed the Prince.

King Evadne ran back on, quickly reverting to a regal walk.

“What has happened?!” asked the King.

“I’ll leave the Prince to explain,” said Hilda, and dashed off.

The Prince and the King looked at each other.

“It was the witch,” said the Prince.

“Ah,” said King Evadne.

Fairy Hilda entered.

“The witch has powerful magic,” said the good fairy, panting only slightly. “I cannot remove the spell. But I will arrange a place for the Prince to live—a place of enchantment. And I will endeavour to alter events to favour him.”

“Thank you,” said King Evadne. “I must find the Queen and tell her.”

“You really don’t need to,” said Fairy Hilda, looking the King in the eye.

“No. No, I don’t,” said Evadne. “Well… Let’s get on!”

The three of them exited to very little applause.

 

 

Still in her King costume, Evadne hurried to the piano in front of the stage and began playing Beauty’s introduction. Karen made her entrance and sang a song about being young and beautiful and yearning for love. The song came to an end. The audience watched as the pianist got up and dashed away again.

Thirty seconds on, Beauty was still alone on the stage. She kept throwing worried looks into the wings. 

“I wonder where Father is?” said Beauty finally, mild desperation in her voice.

Evadne shot on still wearing her crown.

“Good morning, Father. I see you’re gathering your goods, ready for selling them,” said Karen, trying to discreetly indicate the errant headgear. 

Evadne put her hands to her head, realised what was there and whipped the crown off.

“Yes, I am,” she declared. She stared at the crown. “This should fetch a pretty penny. It is fit for a king after all…”

Trying to conceal her embarrassment, she looked up at ‘Beauty’. 

“Now, after I have sold my goods, is there a present I can bring back for you? Rubies? Diamonds?” 

Evadne made an expansive gesture with the crown and nearly clouted Karen who had stepped forward to deliver her line.

“I just want you to return safely,” said Karen, staring nervously at Evadne’s hands.

Evadne mouthed ‘sorry’ with an embarrassed smile. “There must be something,” she said turning to face the audience.

“Well, then—a rose,” said Beauty, also turning to the audience.

They looked at each other again. Evadne’s mind had gone completely blank.

“Perhaps you should get going, Father..?” suggested Beauty.

“Oh, yes,” said Evadne. “Goodbye, Beauty!”

“Goodbye, Father.” Karen stepped forward and Evadne was surprised to find herself enveloped in an unscripted hug.

“You and Dame Hilda are doing brilliantly,” whispered Karen. “Only another hour and a quarter to go!”

Evadne whimpered.

 

 

“Never again. Thank _heavens_ that’s over,” said Evadne striding into the living room.

“Oh, you’ve got to laugh,” giggled Hilda following her in.

“I fail to see what was funny about that fiasco,” said Evadne.

“Yes, I suppose the audience did agree with you there,” said Hilda. “Not a lot of amusement in evidence this year either.”

Evadne glared at her. “I have never been so humiliated. What about that final scene between the King, the witch and Beauty’s father?”

“Oh, that was very good,” said Hilda. “I’m surprised the audience didn’t laugh during that. I found it greatly amusing.”

“You might have reminded me earlier that I was playing all three roles,” snapped Evadne.

“But you pulled it off so brilliantly,” said Hilda soothingly. “I so admired your versatility. There aren’t many people who could take three parts at once like that.”

“That really isn’t much consolation, Hilda,” said Evadne. She sighed. “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll go to bed.”

“But don’t you want to stay up and listen to the midnight service on the radio?” said Hilda. “We always do that—it’s tradition.”

“I’ve had just about enough of tradition,” said Evadne. “Good night. And a very merry Christmas!” 

She exited from the room and went stomping up the stairs. 

Hilda sat down sadly on the settee.

 

 

It was Christmas morning. Hilda strode into Evadne’s bedroom and whipped open the curtains. 

“Come on—it’s nine o’clock and your mother’s on the phone. Come and say happy Christmas and then we’ve got to get ready for church.”

“I can’t,” whispered Evadne hoarsely from under the blankets. “I’m ill.”

“Oh, please,” said Hilda, turning to Evadne. “You can drop the act now. Your mother’s not going to suddenly jump on a plane and make it here for Christmas dinner.”

“No, Hilda,” whispered Evadne. “I do feel absolutely dreadful.”

Hilda came closer. “You _look_ absolutely dreadful.” She felt her friend’s forehead. “You’re very warm. You really must be ill.” She lifted her hand away again. “It’s all this fuss over Christmas—you’ve run yourself ragged.”

Hilda pulled up Evadne’s covers a little more snugly. “You have another sleep then and when you wake up I’ll bring you some soup.”

She suddenly went rigid. “I forgot about your mother on the phone! She’s all the way in Canada, you know.” Hilda darted out of the room.

“Every cloud has a silver lining,” muttered Evadne, burrowing into her pillow and settling down for a nap.

 

 

Evadne woke up to find Hilda coming into her room again with a tray. On the tray was a bowl of soup, a bread roll, two cups of tea, and a brightly wrapped Christmas present. 

“What time is it?” asked Evadne weakly.

“Just after twelve,” said Hilda, setting the tray down on the dressing table. “Donald popped round a little earlier to wish us both a happy Christmas. And he said you weren’t to worry about not being well enough to play the organ. Apparently Joan Shanks stood in and was _just_ as good.”

“Doesn’t Joan still have a broken arm?” said Evadne.

“Oh, yes,” said Hilda cheerfully. 

She came over to the bed.

“Let’s just get you sitting up.” She helped Evadne into a sitting position and plumped up the pillows behind her. Then she fetched the tray from the dressing table and placed it on Evadne’s knee—taking one of the cups off the tray for herself and putting it on the bedside table.

“I’ve made you some chicken soup and some nice hot tea,” said Hilda. “It’ll do you the world of good.” She gestured to the parcel. “And there’s your Christmas present as well to cheer you up.”

“Thank you, Hilda,” said Evadne. She carefully opened up the paper and took out the contents. 

“Oh, a thermal vest! And made of silk too,” she said in delight. “It’s wonderful, Hilda.”

“Well, it must get very cold on that tricycle in January,” said Hilda, trying not to show how pleased she was.

Evadne put the vest carefully to one side.

“And this soup looks delicious.” She picked up her spoon. “Oh, you must have your present too. It’s in my bedside table.” 

Evadne indicated the top drawer. Hilda opened it and took out the rectangular parcel that was inside.

She gave it a little squeeze. “How exciting,” she said, pulling off the paper to reveal a book. Hilda stared at it. “The new Monica Masters.”

“Don’t you like it?” asked Evadne anxiously.

“It’s just what I wanted,” said Hilda. She looked at her friend. “But I thought you said it was sentimental, romantic twaddle.”

“Well, it is,” said Evadne. “But it’s sentimental, romantic twaddle that you enjoy, and that’s the important thing.”

Hilda beamed. “Thank you, dear,” she said. She turned the book over and read the back.

“You know, Hilda, I am sorry about Christmas,” said Evadne hesitantly.

“Sorry?” said Hilda, looking up again. “You couldn’t help being ill.”

“Yes, I could,” said Evadne. “If I hadn’t come up with that ridiculous plan… You haven’t even had your dinner and…”

“Now don’t be silly,” said Hilda, sitting down on the edge of the bed and patting her friend’s hand. “Don’t think any more about it. We can have the goose and pudding in a day or two when you’re feeling a little better.”

“Well, I can tell you this,” said Evadne, “next year things are going back to normal. We’ll forget about Christmas for eleven and a half months, and then do everything in a rush in the last fortnight.”

“Sounds very sensible,” said Hilda.

“And no more pantomimes,” said Evadne. “We’ll do a musical evening instead.”

“Yes,” said Hilda. She giggled. “Or you could direct young Karen in a one-woman show.”

Evadne smiled a little at that.

“Oh!” said Hilda. “I almost forgot. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

She got up and disappeared out of the bedroom, and Evadne heard her hurrying downstairs. She was back a few minutes later holding two small Christmas presents.

“Who are these from?” asked Evadne in surprise.

“Karen gave them to me last night, just as we were leaving,” said Hilda. “A little thank you from the cast.”

“All two of them,” said Evadne with a rueful smile. 

Hilda sat down on the bed again. “Well, here we are, dear,” she said, handing over one of the presents. “One for you and one for me.”

Evadne eased the wrapping off her parcel. “Oh, how lovely!”

It was a delicate glass star with just a hint of gold, the initials D.E.H. painted on it.

Hilda unwrapped her parcel: her glass star was silver with the initials D.H.B.

“Now isn’t that thoughtful,” declared Hilda. “Oh, and look—there are little holes at the top. We can find some pretty ribbon and hang them up on the tree.”

“They’ll look splendid,” said Evadne. 

“Indeed they will,” said Hilda. She put both stars on the bedside table and picked up her cup of tea. “Now you have your soup, and a good rest. Then if you’re feeling better later on, you can come down and we’ll listen to the radio for a while. Find a nice concert.” 

“That sounds absolutely perfect,” smiled Evadne. “Thank you.” She raised her teacup. 

“Happy Christmas to you, Hilda.” 

Hilda raised her cup in turn. “And a happy Christmas to you too.”


End file.
